


And that was that.

by ShrinkedPeach



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Major Character Injury, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrinkedPeach/pseuds/ShrinkedPeach
Summary: Once in college, Oikawa's overworking at volleyball hits an all time high. It finally catches up with him, and he gets injured in a way there is no turning back from. This is the fallout.





	And that was that.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Holy cow. I apologize if any of this seems to be out of character. This is my first Haikyuu fic, and certainly my first time trying to write for anybody like Oikawa or Iwaizumi. This may even be the longest fic I have ever written. I literally sat and wrote this whole fic from start to finish in one afternoon. By now, I have read their names so many times it doesn't even feel like I am reading words! This is what happens when I procrastinate writing for college courses. You're welcome.
> 
> (On a more serious note, any constructive criticism would be appreciated. Good luck with any future reading)

One moment, Oikawa Tooru’s life made sense. The next, it didn’t.

But really, he should have expected this.

It wasn’t one incident, but a chain of incidents. Aoba Johsai lost to Karasuno in the prelims of the Spring Interhigh. Before they knew it, graduation was here and gone. Tooru passed his entrance exams and managed to get a scholarship to play volleyball at a decent enough college. He would never admit it out loud, but keeping up with his studies in order to get that far was rough. It involved a lot of sleepless nights and yelling on Iwaizumi’s end, but they made it.

Then it came: moving day. Iwai would be staying in Miyagi to pursue his dreams, while Oikawa would be heading off to Tokyo. With warnings not to overdo it or be a dumbass, and some muttered words along the line of “don’t forget to call”, it was time. It wasn’t until he loaded up the last of his stuff that Tooru realized just how lost he would be without that stubbornness at his side. It had become such a constant that he supposed he’d taken it for granted…taken Iwai for granted. Oikawa left Miyagi in a rather pensive mood, reminding himself to thank the other and tell him these thoughts when ready.

But he never did call Iwaizumi, and he never did pay attention to all those warnings about overworking himself. He genuinely wished he had done both of those things.

He hadn’t made it past his second semester before it all caught up to him. You see, Oikawa Tooru was not someone who let go of his failures or took them lightly. It isn’t hard to imagine how unhealthy that mentality was. Eventually, all that regret and anger would fester until it popped under all the weight and pressure. Until he popped under all the weight and pressure.

It started out simple enough: the knee he injured while in high school started bugging him a bit again. It felt stiff and rigid in its movements. Even by that point, Iwaizumi would have already lectured him and made him take practice off for a couple days. Iwai always was the smart one.

By the next week, Tooru couldn’t quite ignore it anymore. There was a sharp pain whenever he put weight on it. But the show had to go on. They had a lot of important matches lined up soon, so he decided to down painkillers before practices and ask questions later.

Maybe it was because of the injury, but it started to feel like all his free time lately had been dedicated to volleyball. He was exhausted, even if he couldn’t let his team see it. His body had gotten so used to the throbbing in his knee (by this point, knees) that it was only a tingle to him now.

That was, until he found himself tripping over his own two feet going after a ball one afternoon at practice. His leg twisted just the right way, and there was nothing he could do to stop the gasp and yell he let out as it happened. His team was genuinely distraught and worried about him. He just hastily excused himself from the remainder of practice, promising them he’d see them tomorrow at warmups for the game. As he did, he turned his face out of sight from any of them because he would be damned if they saw him wince and tears prickle behind his eyes at each step. He bit down hard on his lip the whole way into the locker room and sat down the first chance he got. As he steadied his breathing, he wondered how the hell he was getting back to his dorm.

Warmups were torture. The team kept asking why he hadn’t started on serves yet. All he could do was brush them off and toss. What concerned the team most, however, wasn’t his refusal to serve. It was how quiet he was being. His coach, who hadn’t been present at practice the day before due to a meeting, called him over. A bit of questioning later, he confessed to the mishap. When the coach asked if he was feeling okay, he said yes a little too quickly. With a raised eyebrow, the coach told him to go see a trainer. Oikawa agreed to, but did not. Instead, he snuck off to the bathroom and waited until warmups were nearly over before coming back. He lied and said he was cleared.

Then the game began. Tooru was first up to serve. He was incredibly unsteady on his feet. Somehow, he knew it was leading to this. He knew what would happen if he went through with it. But he had to play with them. He had to prove he was worthy of a college team. He had to become one of Japan’s top players. He had to win. He had to win. He had t-

His feet hit the ground. He felt every little crack and snap as his knees gave out under the impact. He hit the ground, too. And that was that. The serve landed out. That ball took with it Tooru’s ability to play the game. It took with it his college funding. It took with it the countless hours of training he’d put in over the years. But it didn’t leave much in its wake.

Oikawa didn’t even remember passing out. When he awoke, he was surrounded by some rather familiar faces. His parents, faces sickly pale. His former coaches and teammates from high school. Once his head was able to clear a bit and he was fully up, he noticed that one of his old teammates wasn’t there…perhaps the most important one. Having no idea what to say or how long he’d even been out, he just shifted his eyes around the room at everyone. As he sat there, it dawned on him just how homesick he had been. He missed the smell of this air. He missed the quaint feel of all the buildings, even this hospital. It wasn’t long before he felt woozy and drifted off to sleep again.

When he woke up the second time, he felt much more refreshed and alert. After a few minutes, the doctors gently broke the news to him. Everything came back to him at once, and his eyes widened. He had to undergo intensive surgery and was transferred back to his formal hospital in Miyagi to recuperate. The recovery process would easily take him out of school for the remainder of the semester. He wouldn’t even really have a college to return to. He would no longer be allowed on the volleyball team. Not because he was kicked off, but because he was being ordered by medical professionals not to play any high-impact sports for the remainder of his life.

Tooru clutched at the sheets. He was visibly shaking by this point, and his breathing had grown sporadic. When he got a better look at how his legs were propped up and casted off, he felt like he was going to vomit. He wasn’t even 20 yet. He still had so much left to do with his life and career, but it was all over. There was zero hope. He wasn’t even 20. Not even 20. Not ev-

He was grateful that the doctor had been holding his hands and ushered him into some breathing techniques without him realizing. He sheepishly pulled his hands away and scratched the back of his neck, looking away. The doctor got up, murmuring something about his parents leaving his cellphone and some other key items on the stand next to his bed. Oikawa issued a thanks as the doctor walked out the room to let him process everything.

Tooru had a good chunk of messages left on his phone. A lot of them were, in fact, from his parents. He figured he’d message them back first to let them know he was at least conscious. His mother messaged back stating that they were relieved to hear, and asked if he wanted them to bring him some dinner. Truthfully, he was not very hungry. But he knew he needed food, and he didn’t want to worry them more. So he just shot back that he wouldn’t mind if it was not too much trouble. Mattsun and Makki combined almost dropped him more messages than his parents did. Kindaichi and Yahaba were upset, but just glad that it was not worse. Even Mad Dog sent one message his way. He was touched, but he also felt unbearably guilty. He did not think they deserved this. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t deserve this either, but he couldn’t do it.

He was released from the hospital a couple days later, but it was still a lengthy road ahead. He had to wear the casts for a while. During that time, he was wheelchair-bound. He despised the awful, lengthy, intense physical therapy sessions. Those would be around for a while, even after he could get back to walking. By the time his casts were replaced with splints and he could use crutches, he felt crushed from the inside. Nothing was going right. He had sent Iwaizumi so many messages and not gotten a single response. He had no future to speak of at the moment. He was surrounded by people who supported him, but all they did was pity him and worry. It made him sick. He just wanted to scream at them to shut up and leave. That he did it to himself. He just wanted the one person he _needed_ to hear say “I told you so”.

He did it. He texted Mattsun and asked him if he knew Iwaizumi’s current address. He also swore him to secrecy and told him not to utter a word about this to anyone else. After a few hours, Matsukawa decided to give him the address. Tooru immediately hailed a cab over, not giving a shit about whether or not anybody was home.

Oikawa wasn’t even sure if he wanted anybody to be home. Even so, he nervously knocked and waited. As he was going to leave, it opened. Iwaizumi simply rolled his eyes and went to shut the door before Oikawa stopped it with his arm, almost toppling over. “What do you want?” Iwai drawled.

“Hajime, listen. I am such an idiot. I can’t tell you how stupid-god, how absolutely _stupid_ I have been. And-“ he started.

“Enough. First of all, who the hell said you still had the right to call me by my first name? Second, I have nothing to say to you.” Iwai shot back.

“But…aren’t you gonna say that you’ve told me a thousand times and I had it coming like you always end up doing?” Oikawa whined.

“No. I’m not.” Iwaizumi responded curtly.

“W-Why not?” Oikawa stuttered.

“Because you are absolutely pathetic, Oikawa Tooru. You ignored me for months. You had the nerve to go behind my back and ask somebody where I live instead of asking me personally to talk. Weeks after you’ve gotten back, mind you. I’ll bet you have skipped at least three of your physical therapy sessions by now, and haven’t even thought of seeing an actual therapist. Don’t talk to me until you are standing on your own damn feet. I am not your crutch.” Iwaizumi answered.

“Iwa, please! Just say it! Fuck, say it already! I feel like I am suffocating and I don’t know anything anymore and I just need something normal! Please! It’s only four words!” Oikawa felt the strain on his vocal cords from the shouting and didn’t even bother trying to hold back his sobs.

Iwaizumi shook his head, gently pried Oikawa’s hand off the door, and lightly shut it in his face. Tooru sat outside the house for hours, thinking about everything that had happened. His phone buzzed. The message read “I know you’re still there, dumbass. Go home. It’s late. Talking to me is not what you need right now.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of the message. He called a cab, then saddled up on his crutches and left without another word. The ride home, it felt like all he could do was think. The following morning, he called to schedule some extra physical therapy appointments to make up for what he missed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to take things any further than that, though.

He was finally able to stop wearing the splints. And after that, he was allowed to completely be on his feet. However, it was only for 4 hours a day. It was annoying, but it at least let him work part time to help pay for some of the medical bills. The time was slowly, yet surely, increased. By the time he was permitted 5 to 6 hours, he felt it was time for another kind of appointment.

This would be the rough part. For as much trouble as Oikawa had admitting his faults, it was simultaneously hard for him to find much value in anything about himself. It felt like he was being torn apart when he had to say, out loud, what really led to everything. His insecurities. His obsessions. His drives. It was fucking _impossible_ to talk about his current goals and what a life without playing volleyball would look like. No, literally. He ended up storming out of the office in the middle of that session and not coming back for like a month before he remembered what Iwaizumi said to him.

He hated feeling like he was having his brain and soul picked at. But it helped. He could truly look at things from the outside now, and not get so stuck on his view. He’s learned that introspection is good, but that he was utilizing a toxic amount of it. He’s also realized that he has used people a lot, whether it be intentional or unintentional. This growth and these truths didn’t happen overnight. It took months of hardly speaking to his friends and internally mauling himself. Before he could ask anybody to forgive him, he realized that he would have to begin forgiving himself. And that was harder than any serve or set he’d mastered. I mean, how _could_ he? He self-sabotaged. He hurt people. He was a damned coward.

He then heard a knock at his door one random afternoon. Curious, he got up to see who it was. It was, oddly enough, Kindaichi. And behind him was Iwaizumi. Tooru’s breath caught in his throat at seeing the two of them. Frankly, he was overwhelmed and not prepared. It took every ounce of his being not to act on his reflexes in that moment. Instead of saying anything, he let them speak.

“So uh…coach said he wanted a break for most of this season. I was sent to ask if you’d be willing to learn that side of things. I told him you would probably say no, a-and that it’d be really cruel to given…ya know…but…we are going into my third year so I really want someone good a-and reliable.” Kindaichi stammered.

Oikawa laughed. It was a free, genuine laugh. One he hadn’t felt able to do in a while. “Kindaichi, you’ve always been a little awkward. You wouldn’t be you without it. He wants me to start coaching, aye? Given my track record, I think that is a horrible idea! But you’re on. Also: excuse me, but what? You are a _third year_ now? When did this happen?!”

 “While you’ve been sulking and trying to find yourself, we’ve grown ourselves a decent little vice-captain here.” Iwai chimed in.

“Haha. So Kunimi is captain, then? Very well.” Oikawa said with an affirmative nod.

Kindaichi groaned. He then picked up on the fact that Iwaizumi had likely wanted to speak to Oikawa alone. “Well, I should get heading back to let coach know then.” he stated. The other two bid him farewell. Once it was just the two of them, Oikawa hugged Iwaizumi tightly and buried his face into his shoulder. He gripped at Iwai’s jacket like a lifeline.

“I…am so, so sorry, Iwa…” Tooru breathed out, not trusting his own voice.

“I’m just glad you finally listened to me for once.” Iwaizumi mumbled back.


End file.
